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She's intuitive, cuddly, and more than a little gaga-the sort of woman who sets the table with pleated colored paper napkins standing, fan- shaped, in glasses-and her cooking rivals that of Shelley Duvall in "3 Women." (Cheryl serves George her special creamed tuna on toast-the creaming from an undiluted can of mushroom soup.) Cheryl has been playing the dumb, loving, obedient wife to her macho fireman husband (Kevin Dobson) for so long that even though she hates her life she's terrified of losing the security, scared of how she will live without her things. There were times when I couldn't tell whether Streisand was uncomfortable with the confused, frightened char- acter she was playing or trying to in- dicate Cheryl's discomfort with her- self. It's a Marilyn Monroe flower- child, crazy-lady role, and there was a certain amount of discomfort in it for us when Monroe did it, too-but a different kind of discomfort. The character came out of Monroe; with Streisand it isn't clear what it comes out of. She's a thin-faced, waiflike question mark walking through the movie, and you can't quite grasp why George Dupler, who is very bright, would respond to Chery1's bleached- blond tackiness. Annie Girardot turns up in a guest bit (she teaches French to George's wife); when her eyes con- nect with Hackman's, there's a flash of something more substantial than the goofing around between him and Streisand "All NIght Long" is spare yet ro- mantic. It's a worldly-wise comedy of manners in which the people are iso- lated-are left on their own. When George quits his job at the Ultra Save and the employees salute him, I was surprised at how sorry I felt that we wouldn't see more of these people and their lunar world; I had become attached to it. (There is a beautiful slapstick scene of two executives from Ultra Save's corporate headquarters being chased through the store by a toy helicopter. ) And when George drops in on Cheryl at a time when he knows that her husband win be home and razzes him, it's apparent that MAR.CH 9,1981 Cheryl enjoys the danger of the situa- tion-there's a sexual thrill in it. There are a lot of feelings buzzing in this sequence; it's knowing without be- ing offensive. Tramont views people's mixed emotions with formal, almost austere bemusement. Folly pleases him. (If Stendhal's Count Mosca had left Parma and gone to Los Angeles, he might have observed life there much the way Tramont does.) There's a per- verse little game going on: If you ex- pect something to happen, it doesn't- even when Cheryl's enraged husband picks up a cake, he doesn't throw it. The film is punctuated with unforced bits of comedy-some are no more than a gesture of Hackman's or his way with a line of dialogue. And the first of George's inventions that we see is fairly startling: a mirror that doesn't reverse the image-that shows you yourself as other people see you. Conceptually, the movie is a little lazy-it's too pleased with the idea of free spirits rebelling against stuffy jerks; the incident of George turning in a fire alarm in order to get Cheryl's husband out of the way recalls the carefree madness of empty-headed he- roes in thirties screwball comedies. But when George is in his loft and you hear J osé Padilla's "La Violetera"- the poignant tango from Chaplin's "City Lights"- Tramont's elegant spareness comes into its own. (Appar- ently, he had used Chaplin music, or- chestrated and conducted by Georges Oelerue, for the whole soundtrack, but the executives at Universal insisted on removing some of it; they also insisted on some cuts in the film.) "La Viole- tera" completes the tone of "All Night Long." You can hear the sound of the violin bow against the strings, and it's an intimate sound Y ou understand that what you're seeing is a comic lament-a what-if picture with a delicate, faint chill. It's a romance about how romance passes. T HE lovely, toothy Helen Morse is the heroine of the 1976 Aus- tralian movie "Caddie," which has just opened here. She's Caddie, a young suburban housewife who in 1925 leaves her cruel, philandering husband, taking their two small chil- dren with her. Directed by Donald Crombie, from Joan Long's adaptation of a woman's pseudonymous autobiog- raphy, the picture, which is set in Sydney, shows us the penniless Caddie going to work as a barmaid in a rowdy workingmen's pub, just barely surviv- ing during the rough years of the De-